57. Epilogue #2
Cameron smacks my balls. Lightly. Ish. I still cry out. “Give me exact numbers, pet. I thought you accountants loved your numbers.”
I do love numbers. When I’m not painfully aroused. What were the numbers again? I wish I had two brain cells to rub together. “12,000 for one year, that’s…” I trail off on a moan when Cameron starts on my prostate again. “3,000 insurance expense. 9,000 prepaid.”
“Good job, pet,” Cameron croons. His fingers pick up the pace, sliding back and forth and driving me crazy.
I whimper. “Please, Sir.” I desperately want him to take the cock cage off and let me come, but I know he won’t. We’re just getting started.
Just when I feel the beginnings of an orgasm gather at the base of my spine, that familiar tingle announcing I’m about to come, cage or not, Cameron stops.
Groaning, I let my head fall down on the padded surface of the bench.
My body is so primed on pleasure that it takes a few seconds before pain registers as Cameron starts flogging me again.
“Explain the purpose of depreciation.”
This is torture. “Depreciation.” I try to focus. “It’s, um.” Do I even know the answer? “Like, when you have something expensive. And you spread out the cost over time.”
“Hmm.” Cameron pauses, probably asking AI if what I said was correct. He knows nothing about accounting.
“Not wrong, but not the formal definition,” someone from the audience says.
The flogger hits my balls. My howl causes a round of laughter.
“Thank you,” Cameron says. “Would you like to try again, pet?”
“I… I can’t remember.”
I tense, expecting another strike to my balls, but Cameron chuckles. It’s a dangerous chuckle, one that promises changes to the game I’m not going to like. “Well, maybe you’d like to ask the gentleman from the audience for help?”
As if this wasn’t humiliating enough already.
I can’t even see the guy. He’s somewhere behind me, getting the front line view on my red ass and dripping cock.
But Cameron won’t let up until I do what he wants, and I’d rather avoid more strikes on my poor balls.
“Please, sir, would you tell me the correct definition?”
Footsteps. An older man comes into view. His well-groomed beard partially covers a mean smirk. “Not for free,” he says.
That throws me for a loop. Should I offer to pay him for tutoring me while I’m strapped to a bench naked and getting my ass flogged and fingered?
“Of course you’re not expected to give out anything for free, sir,” Cameron says. “Open your mouth, pet.”
Oh.
Oh!
I’ve secretly dreamt about being used by others while Cameron watches, but now that it’s really happening, I’m scared. What if I’m only gay for Cameron? What if I choke or throw up or make a complete fool of myself? Am I really going to do this? “Sir…”
Cameron’s hand lands on my ass. Hard enough to leave a print, maybe even a bruise. He squeezes my balls and tugs, pushing tears into my eyes. “I don’t remember asking you a question, pet. Do what I say.”
And that’s my answer. Yes, I’m going to do it, because Cameron wants me to and I want to please him.
I shakily open my mouth and hold my breath as the stranger’s cock slips in.
It’s… not terrible. He’s different from Cameron.
Equally thick, but shorter. Cleanly shaven.
Uncut. His pre-cum tastes similar, but not the same.
I don’t have to do much. The man grabs my hair and starts thrusting. I just keep my jaw relaxed and focus on suppressing my gag reflex.
“The purpose of depreciation,” the stranger says between the thrusts, “is to allocate the cost of an asset over its useful life.”
Huh. I did actually know that, I just couldn’t remember the exact words.
As he pushes deeper into my throat, he launches into a lecture about assets and creative ways of writing them off, most of which are illegal.
I do my best to listen, but only hear half of what he says over the sound of blood rushing in my ears.
My body jerks as I run out of air. Darkness consumes the edges of my vision.
“And that’s how you… oh fuck,” he moans as he comes.
A salty flavor explodes on my tongue as he pulls back.
I try to breathe and swallow at the same time and end up choking and coughing.
“Filthy mutt,” the man mutters. “Clean that up.” He holds his shiny shoe in front of my face and waits until I’ve licked the few drops of cum that landed on it.
My head is spinning, but I know what to say even before Cameron prompts me. “Thank you for the lecture, sir.” Even if I missed half of it. It’s a shame, really. It sounded interesting.
“And?”
And? What does he want me to say? What else am I supposed to thank him for? He just told me some stuff and fucked my mouth. Oh, right. “And for your cum. Thank you.”
He pats my head patronizingly. “You’re welcome.”
Cameron squeezes my ass cheeks. “Good job, pet. Do you remember the answer?” When I manage to repeat it with only a slight hesitation, he hums in appreciation. “Good boy. You’re going to ace this test.”
I’m not so sure about that. What I know is that every time I think about asset depreciation from now on, I’ll get unbelievably aroused. Maybe it’s a good thing Cameron makes me wear the cock cage to classes.
“I think you deserve a little reward.” He pushes something into my hole.
It brushes against my prostate at just the right angle and I shudder.
A freaking prostate vibrator. I both love and hate those things.
They guarantee an orgasm whether I want it or not, but they’re just so powerful their vibrations border on pain.
And Cameron likes to make me come over and over.
“Please, Sir.” What am I even begging for? “I can’t. Please. Not that.”
Completely ignoring me, Cameron turns the toy on. The sound that comes out of my mouth can only be described as a wail. “Oh god, stop. Please. It’s too much.”
He doesn’t stop. He’s in charge, and I love it, even if I hate him right now.
“Let go for me, Justin.”
I sniffle. My mind’s still a little hazy from before, my throat aches, my cock feels like it’s about to burst through the cage, and my hole is so sensitive I feel like I might vibrate into another dimension.
But Cameron wants me to do this, which means I’m doing it.
I rest my forehead against the bench, already sticky with my sweat and the lecturer’s cum, and relax.
Deep, slow inhale. Even slower exhale. It doesn’t help with the way my head spins, but it lets me slip closer to that floaty place where nothing matters.
Cameron moves the toy around and finds a different angle that makes me scream. I try the breathing exercise again, but it’s no use. I’m too close. The pressure of the incoming orgasm makes my toes curl as it gathers at the base of my spine.
“Sir, please. May I come?”
I can’t come without permission. I can’t disappoint Cameron like that. Not to mention, he’d have to punish me in front of these people, and this is already torture, even if it’s supposed to be a reward.
“Hmm. I don’t know. Depreciation. A $50,000 asset, 5 years, straight line.”
I sob. I can’t do freaking math when I’m about to come.
“Please!”
“Give me an answer, pet, and you can come.”
The audience cackles and hollers. I hear some answers that are definitely wrong, and some that might be close to the truth. I pick one and pray for the best. “10,000 per year.”
“Correct.”
A scream tears from my throat as Cameron drills the toy deeper into my prostate and all that pent-up pressure explodes.
I come violently, my body twitching and jerking as the waves crash over me.
My poor cock dribbles out a bit of cum like it wants to join in on the party even from behind bars.
I’m trembling and full-on sobbing when the strongest waves pass, dizzy from the too strong sensations.
To my absolute relief, Cameron pulls the vibrator out of my ass. Once, he didn’t. Once, he made me come three times in a row. He would have kept going, but I passed out after round 3.
“Good boy,” Cameron whispers, just for my ears. “You took that so well. You’re perfect.”
His words ground me, fill me with warmth so strong it combats the growing exhaustion. As the strands of the flogger start falling on me again, I relax, grateful for a moment to compose myself.
My relief is short-lived.
“The beginning inventory is 10,000. Purchases are 25,000, ending inventory 8,000. What’s the COGS?” Cameron asks, like the absolute villain he is.
I have no clue. I don’t even know what COGS means. My brain is dead. Truly and absolutely dead.
“I know that one!” someone hollers. Not the lecture guy from before. This one’s holding a phone. I bet he just googled the answer.
He smirks. “I can tell you. For a price.” He’s already unzipping his pants.
Cameron’s laughing. “Well, pet? Do you know the answer, or do you want the help from the audience?”
I have to admit defeat. It seems I’m destined to blow half the club tonight as we go over the lecture notes. Fuck me, right?
Except I don’t really mind. Deep down, under all that humiliation, discomfort, pain, and exhaustion, I’m happy. I’m making Cameron proud.
Sucking off strangers in an illegal sex club while I’m quizzed on Financial Accounting might not have been my life goal, but it’s where I am, and I don’t regret it one bit.
I might not be perfect for everyone, but I’m perfect for Cameron, and he’s perfect for me. He’ll always be there for me, and that’s what matters. At the end of the night, he’ll wrap me in his arms and call me a good boy, and is there a better life goal than that?